Helena: The Phantom's deceit
by Christine Nilson
Summary: Follow the story of Andrew Lloyd Webbers The Phantom of the Opera and discover the true story that was never told.
1. Hamlet

"_It's strange to think that it's only been about seven or so years since I first came to L'Opera Popular. Seven years, and I've still only made one friend and quite a few enemies. Of course, you know all about it, I tell you everything. I keep having to add more and more papers into you, and I fear that you might burst with all my constant thoughts and stories. _

_Well, I suppose one day I'll start a new one. Yet, this one… I still want to fill it up of the things that have been happening… these, odd occurrences that are quite… unexplainable. Such as… the angel…_

_It still comes to me. Everynight. And though it does seem to believe that Christine is the one talking to it... sometimes… she's fast asleep, and I don't want it to go away. So I speak when Christine can not…but does it know?... I suppose I never will know for sure."_

Madame Giry stood at the door, looking in on the young girl who was still up, writing in a small book with only a little candle light. "Dear, it is pass curfew. Blow the candle out, and goodnight." She whispered, yet, still with a tone of authority.

The girl nodded, "Sorry, Madame Giry." She quickly closed her note book, sticking it under her pillow, and then blowing out the candle. She watched as Madame Giry slowly and quietly closed the door, and as she did, she closed her eyes, falling fast asleep.

Early morning arrived, and the sun was just rising over some of the buildings in Paris, creeping through the windows of the Opera House. The ballerinas began to wake, yawning and stretching, rubbing their eyes from their nights slumber. They all looked on in their still sleepy state as one of the girls was just finishing changing.

Most of them rolled their eyes, and some looked at her in disgust, but she usually shrugged it off. She didn't really care what they thought of her, or the way she acted and looked. She actually found it quite entertaining. She loved the attention she received from it, most of all from the ballerinas.

She quickly grabbed her cap, running to the full size mirror in the room, which was in an oval shape, and moved back and forth for different angles. She studied herself for a moment to make sure everything was in order. Her knickerbockers were knew, a gift from John Buquet, and fit perfectly. She were an old cotton shirt and an old pair of riding boots that Madame Giry had given her (Though she didn't really understand how a ballet instructor could afford, or have a need for such boots, she didn't bother to ask either.)

She finally pulled up her long blonde hair, wish had only a slight wave to it, pinning it as tightly as she could against her head, and then taking her cap, stuffing her hair underneath it, and putting the cap on. She took one last glance at herself, and then swiftly turning around, smiling and walking out of the room.

A small girl with dark brown hair played with the ties of her ballet slippers as she saw Helena leave. She jumped off the bed, prancing behind Helena a bit until she stopped at the door and Helena walked out, closing it behind her. She turned, looking at the other ballerinas who were still in the middle of getting ready. "Can I go now?" She asked, with a whine to her voice.

Meg and Christine both looked up to Jammes, shaking their heads. "No, Jammes. We all must leave for the stage together. Mother doesn't want us to run around the Opera House alone." Meg said, in a rather motherly tone.

Christine piped up, and with an arrogance to her voice, "And the last thing we need is to save you from the rats… and even worse… the Opera Ghost."

As she said that, Jammes' eyes widened. She was terrified of the Opera Ghost, yet, at the same time, completely interested. She could recall any story told to her by Joseph Buquet, and had them all memorized. She stood by the door, waiting for the others to finish and listening to their conversations, which consisted of the usual morning talk, Mostly of rehearsals for the day, Carlotta and Piangi, or of the routine. However, today they added something a bit different to the conversation.

Christine sat on one of the beds, lacing her slippers as she spoke with Meg. "I just find her a bit odd. She dresses like a boy for goodness sakes. Lord knows the only reason she still wears a corset is because your mother makes her. And all the men in the stage crew call her Hamlet."

Meg giggled, "Hamlet… that name always makes me laugh. Reminds me of a pig. Why do they call her that anyway?"

Christine shrugged, "Something about her obsession with William Shakespeare. She never really liked Opera you know. She always whines about it to Jammes. She acts like she knows so much about Operas and Plays."

Meg tied her tutu into place, finishing up, "She just likes the attention she gets for saying those things. She knows Jammes will believe everything she says anyway… Jammes will believe anything anyone says." She giggled, glancing to Jammes who was puffing out her cheeks and glaring at Meg.

She stomped her foot in anger, and turned, opening the door. "I don't care if the Opera Ghost does get me. Even if he Punjab's me, it would be better than listening to you two Delilahs say such horrid things!" she stuck out her tongue, feeling quite proud of herself, and walked out, slamming the door as hard as she could.

Christine and Meg stared at the door for a moment, and then bursted out in laughter. "She just called us Delilahs!" Christine tried to catch her breath, leaning onto Meg for support, feeling a bit light headed.

Meg shook her head. "That girl is so much trouble. I can't believe she just said that."

Christine stood up straight, letting out a heavy sigh, "She gets it from Helena… or should say… Hamlet." A gasp came from her mouth, "When she walks near us, we should start oinking like pigs!" She said, bursting out in laughter once again.

Meg bursted out in a fit of giggles, "Oh my goodness, Christine, you're absolutely dreadful."

Christine shook her head, "I was only teasing. I'd never do that… I feel too sorry for her to do it, believe it or not… I'm sure we tease her behind her back enough… that's something else she doesn't want to worry about. Then again, she probably wouldn't care. She's hard-headed, nothing could get through that skull. We could say anything… and she probably wouldn't understand."


	2. Curtain Call

Jammes quickly pranced down the hall, her hair bouncing up and down as she did. As she approached the back curtain of the stage, she looked around at everything that was being done. The stage crew ran around the stage as the rigging was being reset, and the stage lights separated and moved. She quickly started to get out of their way, and moving to a corner on the other side of the stage. She saw Helena there, talking with John Buquet, one of the stage crewmembers who was teaching her during her apprenticeship, and quickly made her way to her.

Helena saw Jammes walking towards them and smiled a bit, picking her up as she practically jumped in her arms. She stood, trying her best to hold up Jammes, but she proved to be too heavy for her. She quickly put the little girl back down, nodding her head every so often so that Buquet would think she was listening to him.

One thing Jammes had always wondered about was the relationship between Helena and Buquet. Ever since Jammes could remember, both Helena and Buquet have been at the opera. The first time she had saw the two; she thought they were father and son. After she had figured out that Helena was a woman, she started to think that the two were courting, or even married. They were always together, always joking around and such. Helena had sworn many times that their relationship was strictly business, and there was nothing that she and he did that would state otherwise.

"Jammes." A stern voice rang throughout the back stage area. Madame Giry made her way through the crowd of stage crew and to where the three were standing. She hit the heal of her cane on the floor three times, "Get into formation, we're beginning." She glanced up to Helena, "And you, Helena…." She could see Helena preparing herself, expecting to be yelled at, "if you would please move the lights over a bit. Some of the girls have been complaining about the light in their…" her sentence was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice.

"Questo è che non ho voluto!" A woman with reddish brown hair stormed through the curtains of the stage, walking back stage. Her presence itself was overwhelming and demanding. She made her way across the backstage very quickly, even if she was wearing what would seem like such a heavy costume and headpiece. The woman was quickly stopped by chubby, stocky man.

"Carlotta! Finiamo. Abbiamo tuttavia molto di fare." The man gently put his hand out, not in quite a demanding manner, but in more of a submissive manner, almost as if he was hesitant in doing so.

She took his hand, rolling her eyes a bit and walking through the curtains with him once again, disappearing. Helena glanced at Madame Giry.

"La Carlotta and Piangi… it's different seeing them in costume, is it not?" She smirked, walking to the other side of the stage where the railing was for the ballerinas. She watched as the girls lined up one at a time, Meg and Christine of course the last few to get to the railing.

Buquet and Helena quickly climbed the ladders to the rigging and stood on opposite ends of the scaffold. They looked down, watching the dress rehearsal as Carlotta belted out the notes effortlessly.

Though most people could hardly stand Carlotta, Helena learned to bare with her. She actually admired the woman, especially her voice. The power that was behind it, and the years of training that had went into it. It seemed that the only reason most people didn't like her was because she was very rude at times. She was often called a Diva and Prima Donna, but they didn't really use the terms in the nicest way.

She listened closely, almost as if she was in a trance. A dumbfounded smile formed on her face as she leaned over the railing of the scaffold, taking great interest in Carlotta starting to sing the Cadenza.

Suddenly, she saw Monsieur Lefevre walking backstage to the wings, leading two other men behind him. She noticed the men talking, and then Carlotta suddenly stopped singing, her attention fully taken from the stage to the two new gentlemen.

Buquet walked to Helena, leaning over the railing beside her, "Ah, those two. The one… the short one, his name is Andre. And the other one, the taller one, his name is Firmin. I was in Lefevre's office, receiving my check when the two came in. Yeah, he didn't dismiss me, and seemed pretty caught up in shaking their hands and talking; I just made myself comfy on that big couch he's got." He shook his head a bit, hearing the music and the chorus once again. "You stay here!" He yelled over all the noise. "I need to go down and check the placement of props. Don't move or touch anything while I'm gone." He walked to the other side of the scaffold, vanishing down the ladder.

She shrugged a bit, not really minding the fact that she didn't need to do anything then. She much rather watch the rehearsal anyhow. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by Carlotta's voice, blurting something off in half Italian and half French. Suddenly, Andre, Firmin, and Reyer were crowding Carlotta, trying to make sure she didn't leave. Helena couldn't hear what was going on so well, but she got the hint that Carlotta was blowing off some steam. She didn't think anything of it of course, La Carlotta was a Prima Donna, and it wouldn't be a performance without a little drama.

She then heard Carlotta's voice once again, singing, "Think of Me," Helena's favorite song from the Opera. Over the few weeks of rehearsals, she had learned the words to the song and the notes, only catching on by ear.

Her trance state was soon broken again by a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. She quickly turned her head, looking about a bit. She turned the other way, making sure nothing was near the main parts of the rigging, such as the scaffold ropes or the ropes to the stage curtains. She nodded to herself, then turning her head back around, starting to walk forward across the scaffold. "Hello?" She whispered and then paused. There was no answer. " 'ello!" She said, a bit louder. "Buquet, is that you?" Still there was no answer, but now, she could hear footsteps. She looked around her at the other scaffolds, seeing some sway a bit. A smile formed on her face and she let out a little laugh, "Well, Monsieur Buquet, I thought we weren't allowed to play games up here, or have you had a change of heart?" She shook her head, looking down to Carlotta, but catching a glimpse of the ballerinas. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. John Buquet stood behind a wooden tree, watching the girls stretch.

She quickly grabbed onto the railing, gripping it as hard as she could. "Mathew? Joseph? Marquis? Joshua?" She desperately went through these names, receiving no answer, but still hearing the footsteps and witnessing the swaying of every scaffold except hers. Abruptly, there was a loud clack, and her scaffold started to shake. She whipped her head around to see the curtain's main wheel spinning and then a loud crash. Before she could even comprehend what had just happened, Carlotta lay on the floor screaming.

She looked over the railing, seeing everyone scramble to help Carlotta to her feet after almost being squished by the curtain.

"Helena! What the Hell happened!" Buquet had quickly climbed the ladder and stepped onto the scaffold. His face was red with anger, but then quickly faded as he seen how pale Helena was. He quickly ran to her, grabbing her shoulders, "Helena, what was it! Was that you!"

Helena could barely open her mouth. The only thing she could do was shake her head.

It proved to be enough for Buquet. He quickly ran to the curtain's wheel, pulling it around and lifting the curtain back up. He heard Lefevre's voice from below, and answered him back, "It wasn't me sir, I swear! I wasn't at my post! I swear it sir… ah, but maybe it was the Opera Ghost." He gave a faint laugh, glancing at Helena, and then taking in a deep breath, shaking his head.

Helena snapped out of it once again, hearing Carlotta's ramblings. She watched wide-eyed as Carlotta quickly and swiftly walked back stage, and then to the back doors of the Opera House, leaving with Piangi close behind her. Her heart sank. This was to be the first Opera that she was actually allowed to be in the scaffold, and with no leading soprano, that meant no opera. She'd have to wait another few months to do anything in the scaffolds again. She let out slight moan, '_Stupid Opera Ghost…._' She thought to herself. She looked over the railing as Firmin and Andre started to noticeably sweat as they fought back and forth about what to do with no leading lady. Reyer quickly joined in, patting his forehead with his handkerchief every so often. She unexpectedly heard Madame Giry's voice, and a knot tied in the pit of her stomach.

"_Christine Daae could sing it."_

That sentence rang throughout her mind. She knew it would be the death of her.


	3. Daae can't sing

_This chapter may be a bit on the dry side. This is basically set up the whereabouts of other characters who are introduced to the story. Yadda yadda yadda. Yesh, enjoy. _

"She can't sing…." She mumbled silently, still wide-eyed and as pale as she was before.

"What?" Buquet whispered, starting to worry.

"She can't sing… Christine Daae can't sing!" She said in a panic, running across the scaffold to the ladder Buquet had just came up.

Buquet quickly followed behind her, grabbing her arm, "What are you doing! What's going on?"

Helena violently took her arm back from him, almost falling back. "Buquet, you can not tell anyone! Let know one know! I must go… she'll make a fool of herself!" As she finished her sentence, the only thing she could think was how the Angel would finally know.

She made her way down the ladder as things were starting to calm down, and Christine moved to the center stage to begin to sing. She quickly started fussing with a statue that was set behind Christine and near the curtains. She acted as if she was inspecting it, as if she was making sure everything was in place. She moved it a bit over so that it was directly behind Christine, and then at the slit in the curtains.

The two measures of "Think of Me" began, and she quickly made it look as if she disappeared behind the curtains, to the now empty backstage. She went unnoticed, and suddenly, the two measures had ended, and she quickly took in her deep breath. She took a pause, hearing Christine start, and how meek and quiet her voice was.

As Christine finished the fourth measure, Helena took another deep breath, knowing she would have to try even harder to project her voice out. She took the tempo from Christine, and from that, she quietly started to sing, and gradually sang louder, overpowering Christine's voice. By the time they made it to

"_Think of august when the trees were green,_

_Don't think about the things which might have been…" _

Christine and she were in perfect sync with each other. And Christine, thinking that she somehow acquired this amazing voice from _her_ angel, suddenly became more confident, trying to sing even louder, and holding herself more proud. But, the louder Christine started to sing, the louder Helena had to become.

"_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we._

_But promise me that sometimes you will think..."_

As they came upon the Cadenza, she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes, and bracing herself for one of the hardest parts of the song which she had tripped up many times before.

As she had predicted she would do, she stumbled on the first two measures, making them sound so amateurish, but as she came upon the last three measures she regained her confidence and belted them out effortlessly. She, however, was not able to hold the whole note for its full four counts, losing air just after three counts.

There was an eerie pause of silence after she ended, grabbing at her chest and trying to breath in as much as she could. She calmed down, listening very hard for anything. Unexpectedly, a burst of claps and cheers arose and she looked from behind the statue to see the ballerinas surrounding Christine, congratulating her and making a fuss. Her eyes then panned the whole stage area, observing everyone's reaction, and she stopped as she laid eyes upon Madame Giry. In her hands, was an open note with a broken seal. She couldn't make out the emblem impression, but kept in mind that it was red wax that was used.

"Helena!" She heard Buquet's voice from the scaffold and quickly looked up to him. Buquet looked at her with an astonished, gaped mouth expression on his face.

Helena could feel her chest tightening once again. She walked back behind the curtain and to the backstage area, leaning against the wall for support. It only took her a few seconds to calm herself down this time. She looked back up to Buquet who had disappeared from her.

"Sir! Are you alright!" A young man quickly ran to her side, holding her up a bit.

She turned to see a young man, who could only be described as having a boyish charm to him. He had blonde hair, which could only be described as the color of the yellow lilacs in Carlotta's dressing room that were brought by young suitors. His mustache was tiny, plainly being that of what they usually called a fop. His skin was a pale shade, and seemed spotless, and his eyes… she could only describe them as a light blue, incomparable to anything else she had ever seen before.

"I'm fine… really…" she said, trying to walk away from him, but he was reluctant.

"Philippe, there's something wrong with this young boy!" He yelled across the backstage area, and as he did, a taller man stepped from the curtains and walked towards them.

Her heart sank once again as he approached. She didn't want this, she didn't want all this fuss. She scrambled to get away from the young blonde man, but he still would not let go.

"You were just grabbing your chest! Something could seriously be wrong!" He said, letting Philippe take a hold of her when he finally made it to them.

Philippe quickly took a hold of her, trying to stop her from struggling and calming her down. Once she stopped, he put his hand on her chest to feel her heart beat, but he raised an eyebrow… feeling something else instead.

He quickly took his hand away, and then swiftly grabbed a hold of her cap, pulling it off. He saw the bun of hair sitting on top of her head, most of it falling out of the bun. He raised an eyebrow, "I… I could at least understand you being a young boy…but a woman! I do hope you're just acting a part in this Opera." He looked at her with a bit of disgust as Raoul looked on, still a bit confused.

She felt her heart drop. She didn't usually care what people thought, but then again, no one who dressed and carried himself in such a dignified manner had ever taken noticed to her.

"Ah, miss Helena! I've been looking all over for you!" Madame Giry quickly took Helena's arm. "Now I told you that the lights are in some of my girls eyes." She grabbed Helena by the ear, "Now go and fix it!" She demanded, guiding her towards the ladder to the scaffold and then watching her hurriedly climb up. She turned back to Raoul and Phillip, smiling. "You must excuse her, gentlemen. It's hard to walk around the scaffolds and to run around the stage in a dress." She gave her head a little nod, out of respect of the two and then lead them towards the side of the stage where the managers stood.

Helena made it to the scaffold where she was met with less than warm feelings from Buquet.

"What the Hell's going on? First the curtain, and I could have sworn I saw… what I saw!" He hissed.

She tried to remain calm, not quite sure of what exactly he did see, and not wanting to give anything away. She swallowed hard as she began to speak, "The curtain was not my fault… I would I let it fall onto Carlotta. I enjoy her singing!"

He crossed his arms, glaring at her. "I want to know why it looked like you were singing when Miss. Daae was. Helena, I'm not an idiot, so don't think of me as one. I demand to know what's going on right now!" he started to grow a bit louder, but tried to tone it down.

She shushed him, "Buquet, you can not tell a living soul. Though I hardly think they'd believe you. I sang… I was singing. It was me…." She whispered, putting her head down and staring at the boards of the scaffold.

Buquet shook his head, biting his lip a bit. He honestly did not know whether he should scold her, or be pleased. "Did you even think at all before you reacted?" his voice was cold, and he spoke with his teeth clenched.

She glanced up at him, taking in a deep breath. "I… I didn't know what to do… I didn't want her to make a full out of herself."

"And what do you think you're going to do now? Damn it, Helena… what are you going to do when the opera begins. You'll have to run around and try to… to…" He couldn't even finish he was so angry. He grabbed her by her arm, pulling her up closer to him so she might understand how severe the situation was. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You let Christine believe that she has a wonderful voice… and now you've let the whole opera believe it. What's going to happen when they find out? You can't be at every rehearsal, every lesson, every show. What are you going to do then?"

She could feel the tears swelling up in her eyes. She wiped her nose on her sleeve before she spoke, "I… I wasn't thinking! Alright John? Is that what you wanted to hear? I wasn't thinking about it. I was thinking about how she would look like such a fool standing there, singing off key… with such a tiny… horrendous voice! I was thinking about how the opera needs it! About how the opera needs someone new since Carlotta has left! I was thinking… I was… thinking…" Her fast pace soon slowed down, "I was thinking what point would it be for me to go down there and start singing as I am. I'm plain, not beautiful like she is. I dress in boys clothing and work the rigging. I'm known as Hamlet… I can't dance graceful… I can hardly walk a straight line. I can't make men's heads turn when I walk the halls. The public wants something pretty to look at, and that's just the way it is."

"People come to an opera to hear singing…" he protested.

She shook her head, looking back to the ground, "It's human nature that when something is pleasing to the eye… no other sense matters. Who would you rather _see_ on stage? The un-kept, sweaty, plain girl in mens clothing or the pristine, sweet, beautiful girl? It's not a hard choice."

He raised an eyebrow, "You are not plain…" he mumbled a bit, glancing around.

She glanced up at him, seeing his eyes wonder around the other scaffolds. She tilted her head, "Well, I'm not beautiful."

A smirk form over his mouth, "You are unlike anyone that I've ever met. You are kind-hearted, you always put others before yourself… you're just such a selfless person. And yet… you worry so much about little things. In all honesty… you are the most beautiful young lady I've ever met." A smile formed across his face, and he looked at her in a somewhat proud manner.

She smiled a bit, and then shook her head, "And yet, still… what do any of these things have to do with physical beauty?"

He let out a sigh, desperately wanting to change the subject, "How do we go about this? This whole… singing thing…."


	4. Box 5

_I think this is the shortest chapter so far. This isn't actually too difficult… I thought it might be. _

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She let out a sigh, "Well, I obviously can't be on stage moving around the whole time as she does. I need somewhere where I can get great resonance wherever she may move… over the whole stage. Some place close to the stage, but where no one can see me. I need to be somewhere where no one would go… ever." As she spoke, she looked down to the stage, then out to the audience. Her glance reached to the patron boxes of the opera house and her eyes widened. " Box 5…."

Buquet raised an eyebrow, completely surprised that she would suggest such a thing. He shook his head, " Helena… box 5, it is practically forbidden. Have you completely lost your mind?" He hissed at her, growing angry once again at her ignorance.

"Do you have a better idea? I mean, look at it. It sits on the very edge of the stage, facing at a tilt. It's not as high as most of them for a perfect view of the stage, and no one ever goes in." She quickly walked the scaffold as she spoke, making it to the edge and then leaning over some of the ropes, getting a better view of the positioning of Box 5. "The audience could easily hear me from that! And I could easily make it sound like I'm singing from the stage!"

Buquet grabbed her arm once again, leading her the other way, trying to keep her as far away from box 5 as possible, "Helena, get that idea out of your head. It's not going to happen. Are you forgetting that the reason why no one goes in it is because that's where the opera ghost stays?"

She smiled a bit, "Have you ever _seen_ the opera ghost?"

He paused for a moment, trying to think, "I've heard him walking about the scaffolds when I'm alone up here. I've felt him breathing down the back of my neck as he watches me rearrange the ropes and curtains. I've smelled the stench of something strange. Piercing to my nose, yet, I could not describe it as either pleasant or unbearable. It was something I had never smelt before, and I will never forget it!"

"But, Buquet, have you _seen_ him?" She asked, starting to walk backwards towards box 5 once again.

Buquet followed her, facing her still, "Does it matter if I have or not?"

"Do you really believe in something that you can't see?" They were now standing in full view of box 5.

"Haven't seen… can't and haven't are two different things. If you haven't seen something, that still means that it still exists." He stopped, looking over to box 5, "I feel like someone's watching us."

She felt a chill go up her spine, "As do I…" She whispered, starting to walk a bit closer to him. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. It was as if something was pushing down on her, a great weight, yet nothing was there. Her heart felt as if it was tightening. "Buquet… I have a bad feeling…."


	5. Madame Giry's game

"Buquet!" A voice rumbled throughout the stage area and Helena jumped what seemed like a foot off the ground from complete fright. Buquet Held onto her tightly, making sure she wouldn't lose her balance and fall. He looked over the scaffold as he did, seeing the displeased look on Madame Giry's face. "Buquet, I suggest you get Helena down here right away!" She demanded, her cane's end slamming the floor with great force, causing the sound to echo.

Buquet quickly let go of Helena pointing to the ladder, "I have more work to do…" He whispered, angered by what Madame Giry was probably thinking, and by his recent discussion with Helena. "Meet me in the dormitory kitchen tonight at eleven, we will discuss this further then."

Helena rolled her eyes, "Quite frankly, Buquet, I really don't think we have anything further to talk about."

He let out a heavy sigh, "Helena… either meet me in the kitchen or I'll hunt you down and drag you to the kitchen."

She took in a deep breath, not feeling like fighting with him any more, "Fine… I'll be there at eleven. Now let me go so that I can be verbally abused by Madame Giry too."

"Verbally abused?"

"Never mind, you don't understand." She said breathily as she began her ladder descend.

She hit the floor, turning around to see a glare come over Madame Giry. Madame Giry was thinking only one thing: that Buquet was trying to take advantage of Helena. "What was going on up there?" Her tone was not much of an angry tone. It actually seemed more of a motherly tone, as if she was concerned.

Helena shrugged, "He was about to fall… he was trying to help me regain my balance, Madame Giry." She looked to the ground, waiting to be punished for what she would think was nothing.

Madame Giry started to walk away, she turned to Helena, "Come, it's growing late."

Helena looked at her as if she was one of the oddest people she had ever known. "Madame Giry… is that all? No yelling? No lecture? That's it?" Her confused nature made Madame Giry laugh quite a bit.

"Dear, I believe you. I know you wouldn't lie to me." She put her hand on Helena's head, patting it a bit a letting out a little sigh. "I just worry about you… being surrounded by men all day. No matter what you would like to think, you will always be a woman, so you must be careful."

Helena smiled a bit, "Madame Giry, since we are being very honest with each other… I was wondering if I may ask you a question."

Madame Giry smiled, giving her a little nod.

"I… I saw you holding a note in your hand while Christine was singing. Who was that note from? I've never scene a red seal such as that one."

Madame Giry paused for a moment, and a smirk crept over her face, "The note was from the Opera Ghost. Did you not hear the managers yelling over it?"

She shook her head, laughing a bit. "No, I suppose I was still making my way down the ladder when they were. Madame Giry… you always seem to receive the notes… and to be perfectly honest, why is it that we should not believe that you're writing these notes yourself."

Madame Giry's smirk widened to a full smile. "I suppose that there is nothing to prove that I am not writing these notes myself. I'm sure that it is quite possible that I could be the one doing so… and it only seems logical to assume this. However, there is always that possibility that it is not me. And that possibility is what makes it believable."

Helena looked at Madame Giry in utter confusion. "Madame Giry, are you saying that it's possible that… that…."

Madame Giry stopped her in mid sentence, "I am saying that I know Buquet didn't let that curtain fall on Carlotta, he wasn't near it… and then I saw you in the middle of the scaffold… too far away to reach it."

"Then that is what you're saying…." She was at a loss of words and breath, unable to comprehend that what she was thinking, could be true.

"No, Helena… I'm just reminding you that seeing is not believing. Seeing is only conformation, seeing is the end… believing is just the beginning of the journey."

Helena frowned a bit, "Madame Giry… you never make these things easy on us."

She laughed loudly, shaking her head a bit, "Of course not… if I did, you girls wouldn't think for yourselves."

"Madame Giry… he isn't dangerous, is he?" she was starting to feel uneasy… thinking of something or someone that could be stalking the workers at the opera house. And what _it_ might be capable of.

Madame Giry opened the door to the dormitory hallway. She looked to Helena, only for a moment, and then pushed on further, now lighting a lantern and putting it in front, lighting the way for them. "Do you really think I would put you girls in such danger?"

Helena paused for a moment, "You seem to trust him. I mean, if he were to exist, you seem to know him very well."

She unlocked the dorm room door to the left, and opened it slowly and quietly, looking in and smiling at the girls as they were just finishing changing. She moved out of Helena's way, "Here, Helena… you have two hour until lunch, and then the girls will be coming back out for rehearsals until dinner. I think it best for you to stay in the dorms. I will tell Buquet and the rest."

Helena walked in the room, but then turned to her. She was expecting some kind of comment to her last statement… anything to give her any more clues. Madame Giry shut the door and she heard her walk away.

All the girls started to huddle around Christine as Helena stood by the door and watched. They were all praising her, asking her how she learned to sing, where this unbelievable talent and voice had come from. Christine could only smile a warm caring smile, something Helena never thought she would see from Christine. "I… I have an angel watching over me," was the only thing she said, and as the girls tried to get more of an explanation from her, she would only shake her head and looked at them, her eyes glistening, "It's my angel." Her expression was so full of hope and love. Helena couldn't even look at her without feeling sick to her stomach.

Meg looked at Christine with hope in her eyes, "Please, Christine, sing for us! Oh please! Sing again! You were wonderful out there… will you please give us the pleasure of hearing your voice once more!" The girls started to jump up and down with excitement, cheering her on and pleading with her.

She flashed them a small smile and started to blush a bit. She nodded, and took in a deep breath, ready to begin singing _Think of Me_ once again.

"Christine!" Helena burst as she ran through the girls and grabbed Christine's arm. "Madame Giry wants to see you… now!" She said running back through the girls and dragging Christine behind her. She swung open the door, running with Christine down the hall as she struggled to release her wrist from Helena's grasp.

"Helena, what on earth are you doing? Are you mad? Let go of me!" She demanded, finally taking her wrist back with all her force.

Helena calmed down a bit, "Christine... please, you need to follow me." she started walking towards the main Opera house, turning back and making sure Christine was following her.

"Why should I follow you? And if Madame Giry needed me, she would have told me herself." She said, crossing her arms and glaring at Helena.

Helena rolled her eyes, "Listen… please come with me. Christine, it's… it's very important that you listen to me. It has to do with your voice."

Christine took in a deep breath, and as she let it out, she made an annoyed little grunt. "I can't believe this. You can't allow me to have a little attention, can you?"

Helena's eyes widened, "Excuse me?"

Christine rolled her eyes, "I know why you dress like that all the time. It's because you don't think there's anything special about you… so you'll do something to make yourself stand out. That's so childish, Helena. I mean, in all honesty, you'd probably be very pretty if you'd dress like a girl once in a while, and let your hair down instead of keeping it in that dirty cap all the time. Anyhow, I know that you're jealous because now I'm going to get so much attention for my voice, and you… you always talk about how you know so much about opera and plays that you can't stand someone like me getting attention for singing in the opera."

Helena's mouth gaped open, _'And thank you for another reminder of why I don't like you.'_ She thought to herself… but then started to think that maybe Christine's intentions were good, or at least trying to be good. "Christine, I don't care about that right now. What I need to tell you is very important."

Christine raised an eyebrow, "Why can't you tell me here?"

Helena was about to speak, but paused, not finding any reasonable explanation for why she couldn't tell Christine in the hall. She leaned to her, whispering, "I know this Angel that you speak of. I do believe you Christine… I do. When I was in the scaffold, I heard a soft voice, and it said, _"She will only sing for me."_ And Christine, I really do think it was your angel." Helena never enjoyed lying, but it seemed that it was her only choice. She needed to make sure that Christine didn't sing for anyone else but only at rehearsals and the performance. She didn't even think Christine would believe her, it seemed a bit far fetched, but she was hoping that if Christine had so much faith in this Angel, she would believe what Helena had to say.

Christine's eyes started to water a bit, and a look of sheer hope and faith came over her. "Helena, you've heard him too? He does speak to you… I am not going completely mad."

Helena paused for a moment, "Well… I didn't say that you were not mad but…"

Christine quickly interrupted her, "Oh Helena, it speaks to me every so often. In addition, it is the voice of a man… the voice so calming and soothing… it sings me to sleep every night I hear it. And Helena… there was this voice that I heard in my dreams… the voice of a woman. I've only heard her sing… and now I have that voice. Helena, I do believe that I've always had this voice inside of me, and my father knew that. That's why he sent me the Angel of Music. It was to unlock this hidden talent that I knew nothing of."

Helena didn't know what to do. She didn't want to tell Christine that she never heard the angel on the scaffold… but now she didn't want to tell her that she heard the angel sing to her as she slept. Christine seemed so sure that it was meant for her, all of it. She was so sure that it was this angel working some kind of miracle. Helena had never seen Christine so happy, so full of hope; she honestly did not want to break Christine's heart, no matter what.

"Christine, don't sing unless it's for training or performances… try your best to save your voice, and don't sing if you do not have to. No matter what. And always tell me when you're ready for rehearsals and such, I'll go with you."

Christine blinked a few times, "And why do you need to come?"


	6. The Pantry

"Helena…." A voice whispered down the hall. "Helena…." It was starting to get louder, until finally Buquet yelled, "Hamlet!"

Helena's head flung around and she quickly pranced to the kitchen where she seen Buquet leaning on the table, tossing an apple so uncaringly in his hand. He took a bite out of it as she approached, and smiled as she chewed, "So, did I hear Christine's voice with you?"

Helena rolled her eyes, sliding her backside against the table and then lifting herself up, sitting on the cutting board. She made a disgusted face as she moved around a bit, "I think I just sat on pig snout…." She laughed a bit, but then quickly calmed herself down. "Eh, just told her what I needed to."

"Oh, yes… and tell me, why does she need you to go with her?" He asked with a smirk.

"Because, I'm her moral support." She took on a dignified manner.

"Moral support… and you...?"

"I know, sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it?" she let out a little giggle, glancing at him to see a confused look on his face. "You know… two things that are complete opposite… but can go together." She raised an eyebrow as Buquet took another bite of his apple, still staring at her with confusion. "Oh come now, Buquet. It's like, deafening silence, or like… act naturally, or even bittersweet." He stopped chewing for a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, but then closing it, shrugging, and taking another bite of his apple. "Pick up a damn book and read sometime… you might actually learn something… _Heaven forbid…"_

Buquet paused, setting down the apple on the table. "I'm sorry… I didn't exactly have the privilege of going to school like some have."

"You could have studied on your own."

Buquet looked at her with a hint of anger in his eyes, "Why? What would be the point? I do not need to know how to read… how to write… not for being a stagehand. There's no reason for it."

"Well, you need math skills, don't you? I mean, when you take inventory… you take inventory, don't you?"

"That's nothing… all that is is counting."

"But there is still adding and subtracting involved."

"Yes, Helena, but not much! Must we really discuss this right now? We're in here for a different reason."

Helena nodded, "Right…. What might that be?"

Buquet let out a moan, starting to grow annoyed with Helena. "Please, can we get through this without having to be so… difficult."

She raised an eyebrow, "Are you implying something?"

Buquet pointed to her, in such an accusing manner, "Yes! See, that's what I mean! I can't go on without you trying to either change the subject or making it something personal!"

Helena's eyes widened, "Okay, calm down… I just won't talk at all."

Buquet clenched his teeth, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, "If that's what it takes to get you to shut up…" He paused, waiting for a smart remark from her, but as she presented him with none, a smirk crept on his face. "Alright then, now, onto business. You, obviously, can sing. Now, you have led everyone to believe that…"

He paused, his eyes becoming smaller as he squinted a bit.

"What are you….." Helena couldn't even finish, she was quickly shushed by Buquet.

"I thought I heard breathing…." He whispered to her, looking about the place with a keen eye. He closed his eyes, trying to zone in on the sounds of the Opera House… trying to hear the breathing once more. He opened them once again, looking to a large pantry. He turned his head, putting his finger to his lips, signaling for her to keep quiet. He walked closer to the pantry, tip toeing his way there. He lightly put his hand on the handle, and then leaned up against it, putting his ear against the door.

Helena looked on with great interest. She still didn't really understand, or bother understanding why Buquet was acting in such a way. Even if there were someone in there, it was most likely a ballerina. All odds pointed to Jammes, but she still didn't know for sure.

Buquet gripped the handle tighter, closing his eyes and mentally getting ready to open the door. He kept telling himself that he would count to three, and as he reached three, he would swing the door open, run into the pantry, and attack whoever was there. That was his plan; however, he never stopped to think if it was a good one.

His heart was starting to beat faster as his blood rushed through out his body. He wanted the timing to be perfect, he needed it to be perfect. If it wasn't, then who knows what could happen. He quickly got into a stance, and in his mind, he counted. He reached three, and the door floor open as he ran inside, the door swinging closed behind him.

There was a silence, as Helena stared at the pantry. She was expecting to hear yelling, bones breaking, the tearing of clothes… anything. She, instead, heard dead silence. It wouldn't have been so bad, if it weren't for the fact that the thought of Buquet maybe being ran through with a sword as he ran in… maybe that was the reason why there was no struggle.

The door swung back open, slamming against the wall, and as it did, Helena let out a scream.

"Calm down, there's no one in there." Buquet let out a heavy sigh, walking out and letting the door slowly close behind him as he walked away and towards Helena.

Helena took in a deep breath, calming herself down a bit. "All that commotion and there was nothing? Even though I'm relieved, I must confess… I am a bit disappointed." She glanced back at the pantry as the door closed and her eyes widened.

As the door was closing, she saw a piece of black cloth dangling from what seemed to be the ceiling of the pantry. Suddenly there was a foot, and then a body. Her breathing became faster, until suddenly, it had made its way from the ceiling to the ground. It's head still down as the door was shutting… until finally, the last glimpse she saw was this strange creature lifting it's head. Her heart sank, and her skin grew so pale. It was a white flash… a green sparkle… and suddenly, the door was closed. "Buquet!" She screamed, pointing to the door.

Buquet, quickly turned around, running back to the pantry. As he did, there was a loud bang from inside the pantry. This only made Buquet run faster and opening the door, he disappeared inside once again. Slams could be heard… Buquet pounding on the wall. He walked back out, looking to Helena who was still in shock. "… what… what did you see?"

Helena just stared at the pantry door, afraid that it should menifast the way it would before but unable to remove her eyes from the sight. "…the mask…" She put her hand on her cheek where she had seen the mask on the man's. She seemed to be in a dazed state, aware of what Buquet was doing and saying, but then again, not aware of her surroundings or much else.

Buquet wiped his forehead with his hand. 'Come… I'll take you back to the dorm… you will speak of this to no one."

Helena's eyes widened, "What! There was a man there, Buquet! We must tell someone!"

"Oh yes, let's tell the managers so that they know we were in the kitchen past hours… and that a young lady was with me unescorted! I'm sure they'll handle that well!" He grabbed her wrist, "Come, we must go now!"


End file.
